Page 11 of Kyle

We stand around a few minutes until the silver Mercedes whooshes down the street and parks at the curb. The pretty blonde climbs out of the driver’s seat and approaches. My eyes sweep down her. She’s dressed in slim jeans, heels, a light-colored trench coat, and a designer handbag over her arm. She hardly looks the part of a grieving widow, but what would I know about it?

“Cole, thank you for coming.” She puts her hands on his arms, then looks at the rest of us. “I thought you’d be alone.”

Our prez may be in his fifties, but like Brad Pitt, he’s aged well.

“This is some of my crew, Jos.” He nudges her hands off him. “Show us Harry’s office.”

She leads the way into the building, past the guy at the desk who stands and practically trips over himself to bow to her.

“Mrs. Silver. I heard about Harry. I’m so sorry.”

She nods, but doesn’t stop as she leads us to the elevator.

He eyes our leather cuts and Evil Dead patches. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Silver?”

“Yes, Chad. Thank you.” She hits the button; the doors glide open, and we all step on.

It’s small and crowded with all of us. I stand to her side and inhale her expensive perfume in the tight space. She pushes her designer sunglasses on her head. It’s only then I notice the red rims around her eyes. She hides her grief well, but it seems she really is torn up about her husband’s death.

We exit on the third floor and follow her down the hall. She stops at the end in front of a set of double doors. A brass plate reads,LAW OFFICES OF HARRY SILVER, SUITE 310. She inserts a key and lets us inside. We step into a reception area with a desk on the right and a couple of chairs set up like a waiting area.

Cole lifts his chin to the desk. “Who sits here?”

“That would be me.”

Cole cocks his head. “You worked together?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Harry’s office is through here.”

Straight in front of us is an open doorway that leads to a small room. A soft drink machine takes up a good portion of it. She walks through, and we follow, all of us stopping dead when we see a massive safe the size of a small refrigerator sitting just on the other side of the wall. It looks like it’s been here since the building was built.

Cole points to it. “You keep a lot of cash in this?”

“He did.” She lifts a brow. “I gave you most of it yesterday.”

Cole’s jaw tightens, and she leads the way into the next room.

It’s a large, deep office. A huge bookcase takes up the left wall, and surprisingly, the place is decorated with a lot of personal stuff. There are the standard framed licenses and diplomas behind the desk, but there’s also a variety of odd things that show another side of our lawyer. There’s a framed Joe Namath football jersey on the wall, a samurai sword next to it, an autographed photo of Keanu Reeves, a golden buddha, and a free-standing gumball machine, of all things.

Harry Silver was an odd man. Or maybe he was an onion with many layers.

Joselyn moves behind the desk, unlocks a file drawer and takes out a stack of three file folders, plopping them on the desk. “These are the cases Harry was working on when he died. Nothing of much importance.”

“What were they?” Cole asks.

She lifts the first one. “Tyler Mann. Beat up his wife in a drunken rage. First offense. I’m sure Harry was going to get him off on probation. He’d have no reason to kill my husband.” She lifts the next file. “Joey Garza, three-time loser with a penchant for car theft. He was in lockup at the time of Harry’s murder.”

“And the last one?” Cole asks.

“The almond grower I told you about. The one in the San Joaquin Valley who came to Harry for help, trying to get the person responsible for dumping chemicals in the creek upstream from his orchards.” She checks the name on the file folder. “His name is Machado. Mateo Machado.”

Cole folds his arms. “I didn’t know Harry did that type of law.”

“Environmental? He didn’t. But, regardless of what you think of him, Harry had a heart. He felt sorry for the guy. He’s a third-generation grower just trying to hang on to the family farm.” She lifts her chin. “You think there might be something there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe whoever polluted the stream is a heavy hitter. You mess with the wrong people, they get pissed.” Cole makes a motion with his hand, indicating he wants to see the file.

“It seems like a stupid thing to kill a man over.” She passes it to him.

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